


queens in the north

by loserrobin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon verse, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Post-Canon, brief description of healed burns (non-graphic), queens in the north
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserrobin/pseuds/loserrobin
Summary: Concept : Margaery and Sansa are Queens in the North.Setting : Canon verse.Warning : Brief description about healed burns (non-graphic), little angst, mainly fluff.Word Count : 500.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	queens in the north

“Stop fussing, love.”

Margaery smoothes clever fingers over her wife’s arm, interlacing their hands so she can pull it up for a quick kiss against her lips. Sansa can feel her smile into the skin, pressing warmth into the cold that has settled there.

“I’m not fussing,” she retorts, but the bitten state of her pink lips suggest otherwise.

Winter has come once again, a year after the fight against the Night King. Margaery, surviving the wrath of Cersei Lannister, has settled well into her new home. The burns on her arms, and the underside of her chin and neck, have healed into discolored spots, irregular patterns that Sansa has felt beneath her lips, has traced with her fingers.

Margaery is not fooled by her words. A flash of a patient smile reminds her that her wife has a special talent when it comes to understanding other people. “That war has been won, my love. There are no monsters coming to knock down our doors now.”

 _No lioness and her cub to claw us apart_ , she muses, squeezing the hand in her own.

What had she ever seen in Joffrey? Pompous and cruel, ugly within, as rotten as a poisonous apple, at one time foolish enough to believe she could live with such poison. And Margaery, sweet and cunning, had taken her burden, braving the atrocious nature of an ill-fitting bastard prince. How could she ever look at another when someone beautiful had taken her hand and smiled the way Margaery had?

A tap to Sansa’s temple reorients her attention. “Your thoughts are showing, dear.”

“I’m showing caution,” she compromises.

“Worry not,” is the counter,” for we are stronger than we’ve ever been.”

Margaery urges her to stand, helps to smooth the creases in her dress, brushes thick wine red locks behind an ear. Sansa still blushes under the attention, accepts the gentle kiss that makes her toes curl. Every touch is slow and deliberate, tender moments that steal her breath, warms her in the cold that Winterfell is known for.

“I’ll always worry for my Queen,” Sansa says with love.

That gains her a cute laugh, the kind that makes Margaery’s nose scrunch. It tickles her throat with a laugh of her own, dropping a kiss onto a rosy cheek. “As I worry for you, sitting in our room, brooding like your brother.”

“It is a Stark trait, I hear,” she muses. She can hardly imagine she’ll ever be as good at it as Jon, however. He’d always resembled their father the most with the furrowing brows, the down-turned mouth, and infamous Stark stare.

“Come, my Shewolf. Our court awaits us. And I do believe your uncle will arrive shortly from Riverrun.”

Sansa perks up at the reminder, hoping her uncle has brought his wife and child along as well. It is lonely without children at play, helps her home feel fuller, old memories less bitter. “There better be lemon cakes with our lunch this afternoon.”

“Always, my dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you see, be sure to look at my other works and profile! I can be found on twitter and tumblr under the same @.


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